Perception of Dissonance
by YaoiSongstress07
Summary: Inspired by akikos-wok! Unrequited Ramza/Delita. Post Fort Zeakden. Ramza's heart wanders through pain over unreturned love. His closest companions hope for the best, but a Knight has something up his sleeve...
1. Tears

Welcome to 'Perception of Dissonance', a short project inspired by two amazing individals-the author of 'Requiem for the King' and the Lady Pendragon. Thank you for stopping in. I hope you enjoy my first shot at the underappreciated FFT fandom.

**Warning: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO BOY/BOY COUPLES.**

Disclaimer: If I had ownership over Final Fantasy Tactics, so many naughty yaoi parties would go on.

NOTE: The name 'Sybrynne' was inspired by the name 'Sydonny', a character from 'Requiem for the King'. The effort into Ramza's entire fellowship was inspired by akikos-wok.

**PLEASE DO NOT SLAM ME FOR MY INEXPERIENCE IN OLD ENGLISH. THANK YOU.**

* * *

"I hope he's working his magic out there!"

Emyrana (affectionately referred to as Emy) was an energetic soul, never one to hesitate with self-expression. With a set of fiery sapphires for eyes, and unkempt almond hair, she was akin to a restless young wolf. The spirit of a venturesome soldier swept over her words, and echoed throughout the minds of many. She wasn't alone in her thoughts, and wouldn't have cared if she was. It was just nice to have the support of people that really mattered to her.

She, the daughter of the night (as she called herself), was sitting inside of Goug's tavern. Her friends were with her, speaking their thoughts through facial expressions and words. They were weary, but refused to ignore their hearts in favor of exhaustion. A great deal of apprehension weighed heavily on their minds, but the war on Ivalice wasn't their only source of distress. The horribly mangled situation between two figures troubled them, and troubled them incessantly.

They loved him. They loved and cherished him as if he had been with them from birth, straight out of the nest. They loved him as mothers loved baby birds, fragile creatures that could hardly stand on their own. He was a tremendous part of their lives, and their hearts. Which explained why they worried about him, day after day. They loved him, but he was withering away. Dying, crumbling, falling apart like a broken flower. Ivalice's greatest conflict was a devastating burden to his heart, especially since it caused a great loss of life. So many friends were stolen by the flames of war, and his heart bled over those lost lives.

To him, his friends were not just friends. They were pieces of his heart, important shards to his soul. So, whenever their lives were stolen by Ivalice's destruction, his heart shattered. His mind, body and soul experienced inhumane pain, flooding all of Ivalice with the tears of broken smiles. But as powerful as those losses were, lost shards weren't the only sources of sorrow. Day after day, night after night, his heart sobbed over yet another burden.

Ever since the Fort Zeakden tragedy, he had been unable to cease his thoughts of Delita. Delita was initially assumed dead, until his abduction of the Princess Ovelia. While that grave assumption was horrific, he would have preferred it to the current state of things. Truth be told, he would have preferred death by fire. Pursuing a soul that wished to discard him was intolerably difficult.

During the age of peace, two mortals fell in love. Their hearts were bound together through thick, venomous opposition from nobility, tied together by the chains of star-lit eternity. Over the course of several events their love expanded, the Academy's Gala being love's greatest period of growth. Despite the increasing discomfort on Dycedarg's end, and snickers from passing nobles, the two of them plunged ever deeper into Heaven's greatest treasure.

Delita Heiral was the embodiment of Heaven's radiance. While he retained that same radiance during Ivalice's war, his presence was much softer during the era of peace. Short brown tresses, matching brown eyes and porcelain skin were all doused in sweet innocence. He was a gentle creature, able to light up an entire room with just one smile. Unbearable shyness and fear prevented him from expressing anything during his first days at Eagrosse, due to the obvious differences between his life and the lives of nobility. However, with the encouragement and kindness of a strange noble, he eventually threw the pages of his heart open.

Delita was an incredible beauty, yes, but it was impossible to deny Ramza Beoulve's superiority. He was truly a gift from Heaven, devastatingly close to a woman's luminousity. His light, golden brown hair couldn't have come from anything other than Heaven's wheat fields. Soft almond eyes were the perfect compliment to those locks, followed by a slender physique that any mortal-male and female-would have killed for.

His appearance was striking, but it was closely rivaled by his personality. Delita would have been the first to confess Ramza's odd qualities, and no one would have argued with him. The youngest Beoulve son was certainly the most bizarre noble known to man, proven by his acceptance of the Heiral family. He treated Delita's sister as if they both left the same womb, but his kindness towards Delita blossomed into a much more intimate stage. Tietra's brother was initially his friend, but once Delita caught him practicing his sword arts, life changed. Delita, from that day on, no longer saw Ramza as a friend, let alone a brother. Ramza was increasingly affectionate towards him, and never hesitated to protect him against the sneers of nobles-Dycedarg included.

The light of love was unfortunately pursued by the shadows of strife. The outside influence of an unholy cur cut into a budding relationship, and the wounds were only deepened by the start of Ivalice's war. The horrific events at Fort Zeakden marked the first phase of separation, in reference to separated lovers.

The Delita of the present was not the Delita of the past. It was as if the Heiral had split into two different personas. While the Delita of Ivalice's golden age was kind, the Delita of Ivalice's war was a dark heart. On every available occassion he was cold, brutal and wicked towards the one that loved him. Ramza, having experienced a severe drop in confidence and valor, was mortally wounded on every one of their encounters. Delita never hesitated to push him away, and, as a result, Ramza walked away with gashes on his heart. The young Beoulve was not the Ramza of the past, far weaker and softer than his past self. He was naked against Delita's cold barbs, unable to shield himself from overwhelming agony.

Thankfully, Ramza wasn't without an admirer-and that wasn't in reference to the drunken, lecherous admirers he frequently attracted. The apprentice of a revered Warjiis blacksmith, who trained day and night to perfect his skills as an archer, pursued the young Beouvle's heart. The two of them met inside of the town's weapon shop, and from that point on, Rye Sarabune made it his life's goal to care for the wickedly beautiful Ramza.

Noticing the archer's infatuation for the golden Monk (yes, Ramza surrendered the art of a Knight following the Fort Zeakden calamity), the group wasted no time in warning Rye about Delita. Young, and prone to instant flames, the archer promptly gave birth to hatred. Yes, it was against the King, but when it came to Ramza, Rye threw caution to the wind.

Besides, he wasn't alone. The voices of his dear friends joined him.

Well, with the exception of one voice.

"My frustration towards this situation grows deep," the lady Agrias scowled, holding her steaming cup of tea. Due to her seemingly harsh nature, short temper and obsessive manner towards Ovelia's well being, she initially wasn't a strong favorite of the group. As Delita gained ground through Ramza in the past, she gained ground with the same Beoulve's assistance.

"I find it difficult to explain how a mortal can endure so much. Lord Ramza clings to someone that won't even provide him with the time of day."

Micah Elundar gave off one of his brilliant smiles. He most likely had the brightest smile of any Summoner in the field. "You're too kind, Lady. You should have mentioned how Ramza's practically stabbing himself in the heart, seeking affection from such a distant soul. My heart is heavy from our friend's unwavering devotion towards the King, which is why I'd like to strangle our grand ruler."

Looking at a Knight from the corner of her eye, Alanna took the opportunity to share her voice. She was thin in physique, but great in strength-and in beauty. Freckles were sprinkled underneath her eyes by the esteemed angels of Heaven, and her red tresses were envied by those very same angels. "The poor thing suffers incessantly," the squire said with a sigh, then took a sip of her own concoction. "I'd give anything to end his pain-or at least grant him a new pair of eyes. Delita might have been Heavensent in the past, but now he's nothing more than a heartless beast!"

The target of her vision wished to speak, but said nothing. As a result of his indecisiveness, she provided him with awkward curiosity. "His transformation is indeed troubling," Lady Agrias put in, shaking her head. A pair of rowdy tavern customers earned a swift glare from her perilous eyes. "Everything I've heard makes me long for the Heiral of the past. And to think, that cur has the audacity to take reign of the kingdom!"

"Think he's having any fun?" the Geomancer of the fellowship asked, his little heart peeking into the group's eyes. His cornflower blue eyes, which were usually doused in embarrassment around a certain Sky Pirate, had the magic of an innocent animal about them. That particular Sky Pirate replied to his inquiry with a broad, roguish smile, seemingly indifferent but hopeful about the situation at hand.

"I don't 'think', my dear Pewter. I know our good Ramza's having a wonderful time. Here's the question you really need to ask. Is our devastatingly gorgeous angel having a wonderful time with Rye?"

"I think not," a Knight said shortly, rising from his seat. No other word left his mouth as he rose, and evidently wished to depart from the tavern all together. Quickly he earned the attention of his companions at the table, the greatest attention coming from Alanna. She rose from her seat, but her words were taken by a normally quiet Chemist.

"What's on your mind, Sybrynne?"

Sybrynne Aeolone was the closest to Ramza, aside from the obvious members of the Beoulve's heart. That little fact spoke volumes, considering how much the golden beauty adored and cherished his entire team. "I ache for a round of fresh air," the young Knight said, giving the warmest smile to his companions. He was an entity of amazing frailty, bearing the tender characteristics of a flower petal. Long blonde tresses, which were tied back into a braid, were inexplicably beautiful-and flawlessly accompanied by a set of mahogany brown eyes. As a figure of inner and outer beauty, he easily wove his presence into the hearts of many-Ramza's heart included.

At the moment, though, he seemed to be rather devious.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll return in a short while."

The Knight made his exit, strolling as if he didn't have a single care. The remaining members of Ramza's fellowship exchanged fretful, inquisitive glances, wondering where to turn next. The last one to speak to him, Silvana, rose from her place and broke the silence. "I'd like some fresh air too," she said, and bolted from her place without another word. She was soon on the tavern's doorstep, facing the back of Ramza's most loyal friend.

"Sybrynne! Sybrynne, wait!"

Hearing a familiar voice, the Knight stopped in his tracks. He turned to meet the face of Ramza's solitary Chemist, bearing a calm smile. "What are you doing, submerging yourself in solitary confinement?" the young Chemist asked, eyes burrowing into worry. "What ails you?"

"I bear the same burdens as everyone else," the Aeolene said, his smile capturing the sun's magic. "The plight between Lord Ramza and Delita weighs heavily on my mind as well."

Silvana adopted the look of a curious wolf cub. "I don't think you're out here to simply catch a round of fresh air," she said, gently mocking his previous words. "You're planning something. The wheels are turning in that quiet little mind of yours, aren't they?"

"You are astute, and have rather keen eyesight. I do have a little scheme on my mind."

"Mind sharing it with me?"

Sybrynne's smile couldn't have been any warmer. "Of course not. I plan on abandoning my lord's cause."

* * *

This was composed to the Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions/Fullmetal Alchemist soundtrack.

I planned on adding another half to this, but I decided to leave off with Sybrynne's plot. I'll save the second half for an addition chapter. Bwah. Perhaps I shall have Sybrynne pursue Ramza in addition to Rye (whose character was inspired by Reno of Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children and Edward Elric of Fullmetal Alchemist).

But Sybrynne can't pursue anyone if he's planning naughty things. Hm.

By the way, Sybrynne and the others refer to Ramza as 'Lord' out of respect and love, despite the numerous protests he gave off.

May this spark a Ramza/Delita revolution! Yaaaaaay!


	2. Revelation

"Sybrynne! Sybrynne, wait! Cease your flight!"

Silvana had done a great deal of running in her time, but she never failed to complete her objectives. At that point in time, though, her current target was evading her. It was quite odd, considering the laidback manner of his flight, but there was a great deal of determination about him. Ramza's most loyal knight was on a mission, and not even Silvana the lionness could prevent him from achieving his goal.

Into the tavern he stepped, in possession of the warmest smile. The calm brilliance of an owl dominated his features, betraying his inner visions. Silvana Lune was helpless as Sybrynne continued down his road, bearing thoughts that troubled her weary mind. The customers of the tavern were unaware of what lied ahead, and she wasn't separated from their ignorance.

She stopped in her tracks, frozen as Sybrynne approached a particular table. Ramza and Rye had returned, making his mission much easier. Their stroll through the town had brightened his lord's spirits, and that alone brightened his heart. Fate's hands were about to strike, carrying enough power to wreak havoc on an innocent soul.

Sadly, Sybrynne assumed ownership over fate's hands.

Horror spread over the Chemist's face. Silvana could do nothing as Sybrynne opened up fate's book, still smiling with a sovereign's warmth. "Dear Ramza," he said, eyes glowing with the everlasting radiance of a flower. With those words he earned the attention of his many comrades, and none of it was pleasant. They were worried, concerned, fearful of the day's downfall.

"There's a matter I wish to share with you."

As beautiful as Sybrynne was, he was naught but a dead leaf in comparison to Ramza. "What is it, Sybrynne?" he asked, rising from his place at the table. About his face was a pleasant smile, a smile that could have sent the angels into a flurry. "Does something ail you?"

Silvana's eyes were even wider than the Moon. Caught between a rock and a hard place, she observed the development of Sybrynne's wishes. "Nothing has brought my heart pain," the Knight said, shaking his head. "It's just that I have a wish I'd like to express. Dearest lord, I'd like to depart from your valiant company."

A collective 'what?' rose from Ramza's companions. Eyes widened, hearts stopped, and jaws fell to the floor. Despite those reactions, Sybrynne remained calm. "I no longer wish to place my life on the line," he said, taking to the floor on one knee. "My good lord, you have brought me nothing but rapture. But I cannot remain on the lines any longer."

Micah rose from his place, hands balled up in anger. "What madness is this?" the Summoner demanded. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Sybrynne turned to him with a smile. "I have not, dear friend. This decision is straight from the heart, and I made it without regret."

"You cannot be serious," the Beoulve said, tears gracing his jewels. "This cannot be true! Sybrynne, you are my dearest and most trusted friend! You have been by my side for the longest time. You caught so many of my tears, comforted me when my heart was in pieces! I do not understand this, nor do I wish to!"

Tears emerged from the Monk's eyes. Each teardrop, regardless of its beauty, was horrifically sad to behold. For Sybrynne, there was no other being on the planet. The cold, inquisitive stares of his companions faded into obscurity. He knew nothing but the Beoulve's heartache, the sheen of his soft blue eyes. "This cannot be," the epitome of divinity sobbed, face buried in his hands. "You cannot leave me! I have lost so much already! Please do not leave me, Sybrynne!"

Silvana exchanged a glance with Pewter, the Geomancer with a leaf's frailty. It was time for Sybrynne to make a critical decision, and it wasn't the decision he originally composed. The air stiffened, struck by the gales of unbearable tension. Ramza continued to cry, breaking the hearts of many-including the hearts of his friends. His family.

Rye gathered Ramza into his arms, honoring his position as Ramza's most fervent admirer. The blonde Monk buried his head into the archer's chest, sobbing with the innocence of a heart-broken child. "Have you lost your mind?" the archer snarled, eyes snapping off the Knight's head. "Think of what you're doing!"

"I have thought of what I wish to do," the Aeolene said, stern-faced. Silvana and Alanna eyed him curiously, wondering about his next moves. "And it shall be done."

Saying nothing more, Sybrynne walked towards Ramza in a manner that brought a smile to Silvana's face. Agrias gripped Alanna's arm in such a surprising manner, she couldn't suppress a squeal.

Without exerting the smallest bit of strength, the Knight removed Ramza from Rye's arms. The divine Monk was soon placed into the arms of another, and that one went by the name of Sybrynne Aeolene. "Forgive me," he said soothingly, running a hand through the sobbing blonde's hair. "I lost my composure for a moment."

One would have expected Rye to erupt in anger, considering his admiration for the fair Beoulve. However, his only reaction consisted purely of shock. His companions were immersed in the same element of life, wondering where the future had taken them.

Well, all with the exception of Balthier. He sat back in his chair, arms folded and completely content.

"It's his own fault, you know. Ramza's too beautiful for his own good. Now he's got three chaps after him, and not a single prayer to his name."

* * *

This was composed to the wonderful artistry of Princess Mononoke.

Truth be told, this adventure was originally going to end up Ramza speaking with Rye. The Lady Pendragon inspired me to transform it into something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, HA HA. XD I have been inspired to create another adventure in addition to this, but I shall say nothing more. Please stay tuned!

Thank you!


End file.
